


Molten Red And Gold

by camichats



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Curses, Dragon Tony Stark, Fluff, Getting Together, Identity Reveal, M/M, Minor Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:28:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27328093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camichats/pseuds/camichats
Summary: Bucky rescues a hurt dragon that he finds in an alley on the way home. Somewhere else in the city that feels a world away, Tony Stark is declared missing.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Comments: 50
Kudos: 437
Collections: StarkBucksBingo2020





	Molten Red And Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Starkbucks bingo O4: Stranded

Bucky had been walking home from a double shift at the restaurant, when he heard raucous laughter that always meant someone was up to no good. He stopped, groaning at himself for not getting home to a nice, warm bed as soon as possible, even as he turned towards the alleyway. His left shoulder was screaming at him, doing its solid best to convince him it was about to be edged in frost lining his prosthetic despite Doctor Cho’s many assurances that such a thing was impossible. He ignored it, focusing on the alley where there were two men in dirty clothes too thin to be keeping either of them warm, hunched over and looking at a particular point where someone or something must’ve been holding their attention.

Something hissed, and both men cursed, one of them obviously in pain.

“C’mon man let’s just leave it.”

“No way! Do you have any idea what this thing’s worth?”

They jumped as it hissed again. Bucky took a deep breath, straightening up and putting on his best murderface (as Sam called it) before clearing his throat loudly. They snapped around to face him, and he glared. Walking forward, he snarled at them, dropping the face when they immediately took off running towards the other end of the alley. He felt bad about scaring them since they'd probably only wanted to make enough to stop living on the streets, but it wouldn't have worked out for them the way that they wanted; that's how it always went. 

He sighed, turning to see what was so fascina- _holy shit_. Bucky’s breath caught as he saw a gorgeous, cat-sized dragon on the ground, the grime of New York doing nothing to dull its shining red scales. Its right wing was bent at an awkward angle, clearly broken. Bucky winced sympathetically, glancing behind him to make sure no one else was coming.

He got on his knees, heedless of the dirt and tried to soften his expression enough so as to seem nonthreatening to the dragon. Realizing that he was still too tall to appear friendly, he got onto his stomach and rested his head on his arms.

Several feet away, the dragon eyed him distrustfully. It had a long snout and large, floppy ears on top of its head. Four stubby looking legs with dextrous fingers made up the paws, and small spikes poked from the back of its head, running down its long neck and back to culminate in a small patch at the tip of its tail. It opened its mouth slightly, showing off gleaming white teeth that left no doubt it could do damage if it tried.

“Hey hot stuff,” Bucky started, for lack of anything better to say. The dragon snorted involuntarily, shying away once it realized what it did. It bared its teeth again; it was scared. “So I take it that means you can understand me? I’m Bucky, I live two blocks from here. I know you don’t have any reason to trust me, but I can get you to a vet after I drop by my place.” He frowned. “I’m not sure Bruce will know how to care for a dragon, but he’s the smartest fella I know. I'm sure he’ll think of somethin’. He’s taken care of all the other strays me and Stevie have brought ‘im.”

A breeze flowed through the alley, making both inhabitants shiver. “I’ve got heating,” Bucky said enticingly.

The dragon narrowed its eyes at him in warning but scurried over to him. Huh. His legs looked stubby, but he could _move_. Bucky slowly got up, making sure to telegraph his motions as he scooped the dragon into his arms. It rolled onto its back, carefully tucking its hurt wing to its belly so that Bucky only got a glimpse of its golden underbelly scales.

“I’m gonna have to put you in my jacket,” Bucky said, shifting the dragon to his right arm so he could unzip with his left. “It’s not like someone like me would be walkin’ ‘round with a dragon, y’know? Hoodie pocket good with you?” The stink-eye the dragon gave him made him sigh. “You need to be warm, safe, and outta sight Hottie, this is the best I got.”

The dragon sighed back, resigned to its fate. 

“I know you’re used to fancier things, but you just gotta slum it with the rest of us for a while.”

The walk home was uneventful, thank god, but Bucky was aware of how much trouble he could get into for even being _seen_ with a dragon. Arrested, certainly, probably for a few decades for stealing and injuring a rare, exotic creature, despite the fact that he did neither. The stuffed shirt that owned Hottie wouldn’t want to see reason, so yeah, Bucky would be fucked. He'd probably done those guys earlier a favor by taking the possibility away from them. They'd mentioned selling the dragon, and that _certainly_ would've landed them in prison. 

It would be different if the dragon was a shifter-- Bucky had obviously never met one before, but he knew that they existed-- but if he was a shifter, he’d be big enough to defend himself-- also Bucky wouldn’t be able to hurt him even if he wanted to. Plus it’d be a person and capable of explaining the situation. That would be a definite bonus.

He did make it home without incident though, and that was the part he needed to focus on.

“Steve?” he called out, kicking the door shut.

“Here,” Steve’s voice replied, trying to project but keeping his voice low so as to not trigger a coughing fit.

“Anyone else home?” Bucky took his coat off and hung it on the hook, keeping his shoes on because he’d be leaving for the vet soon.

“No.”

Good. It would be bad enough having to tell them the story later, better for everyone-- okay, Bucky-- that no one else know. “Now don’t get upset,” he said when he came in sight of Steve.

Steve narrowed his eyes at Bucky.

He sighed and reached into his hoodie pocket, gently getting Hottie out.

Steve’s jaw dropped. “Buck…”

“I _know_ Stevie, but they’re hurt.”

Steve looked pained as he set his pad and pencil down on his lap. “You did the right thing Bucky, but if someone finds out you could get in major shit.”

“I know.”

“Well, Bruce hasn’t turned us in yet. Hopefully, he won’t start now. You want me to come with ya?”

“Nah, I’ll handle it. Besides,” Bucky added wryly, “plausible deniability. At least this way I ain’t bringin’ you down with me.” He raised his arm so he could look Hottie in the eye. “You thirsty? I’d offer you food, but I don’t got a clue what you eat, doll. Water?”

Hottie nodded.

“Warm?”

They nodded again. It was a really good thing they could understand him, otherwise this would be impossible. 

Bucky got down a glass and filled it one-handed so he wouldn’t have to put Hottie down, and boy was it different to be doing things with only his left hand.

Hottie twisted their neck to reach the water Bucky offered and gulped it down, letting out a smoke-filled sigh of pleasure when they were done. Bucky chuckled, running a finger down Hottie’s neck to pet them. He did it a few more times when they arched into his touch, then blinked in surprise when they gave his fingertip a thankful, harmless nibble. “Time for the vet, hot stuff. Steve?” he called out. “Where’d we put the carrier?” It took a bit to bundle up Hottie sufficiently for the journey, and longer to convince them it was necessary, but eventually Hottie was set for the trip.

* * *

Bruce smiled at him in a resigned sort of way as he led Bucky to a room. “I see you picked up another stray. Are they hurt?”

“Yeah.” Bucky waited until the door was shut to continue, “Uh, so before we start, I _swear_ I didn’t do anything illegal.”

Bruce blinked, then sighed in resignation. “You have a heart of gold, Barnes, and one of these days it’ll get you in trouble.”

“Might be this day,” Bucky muttered, getting Hottie out of the carrier and carefully unwrapping them. “I know it’s a longshot, but do you know anything about dragon-care?”

Bruce, to his credit, only stared at the dragon for a moment before directing Bucky to set Hottie on one of the metal tables against the wall. “A little. It looks like his wing is broken, but I need to get an x-ray to see if we can fix it or if we’ll have to hire an expert.”

“‘His’?”

Bruce glanced up from where he was positioning the overhang. “Male dragons present an undertone with warm colors. Gold,” he said, motioning to the visible scales.

Bucky nodded and watched Bruce calmly speak to Hottie as he got everything where he needed it to be.

“Do I want to know where you found him?” Bruce pressed a button that made the table awash with soft light for a moment, told Hottie he could move if he wanted, then walked over to the computer and sat.

“Alley over on Seventh by Stark Tower.”

Bruce nodded absently, bringing up the x-ray pictures. “He probably belongs to someone that works there. Either he’ll be reported missing soon, and we can call them or…” Bruce trailed off, frowning at the screen.

“Everything okay?” he asked, concerned. Bucky could easily see the break on the x-ray-- an upsetting crack of black in the white showing bones-- but fuck if he knew what it meant for Hottie. He scratched the little dragon’s head to comfort him.

“This was intentional.” 

“What?” Who would do that? It was bad enough on regular animals, but for a _dragon_? There were so many laws in place to protect them for a reason. Hottie nudged his hand to get him to continue, which he did with a small, comforting smile to the animal.

“The only other way a wing can get hurt is if something falls on it or they fall. If either of those happened, there would be fractures along here,” Bruce pointed to the wing bone that was broken, “or here.” He touched the screen where the three main bones met at the claw tip of the wing. “Something this isolated means someone grabbed him and snapped it.”

“Fuck.” Bucky couldn’t report him missing now, couldn’t even look into who Hottie’s previous owner was or he’d lose his temper and go beat the shit outta the asshole. And since the asshole was certainly rich, it would end with him getting tossed in jail. 

Bruce made a vague noise of agreement, but Bucky knew him well enough to recognize that he was pushing the matter to the back of his mind so that he could focus. He carefully set and wrapped the wing then went through the rest of the exam, being extra gentle and speaking softly to Hottie the whole time to keep him calm. 

“Well," Bruce said once he was done, "the bad news is that I don’t know much about his physiology. The good news is that from what I do know, with the exception of his right wing, he’s healthy.”

“I’ve been wonderin’,” Bucky said, “can he understand us? He sure as hell reacts like he does, but can dragons do that? And how much?”

“Dragons are highly intelligent creatures. Because of species variation and rarity, no one knows precisely how much they’re aware of, so it’s perfectly plausible that this one can understand everything we’re saying. It’s also possible that he’s reading tone, body language, scent… any number of things really. It’s been discussed that maybe dragons have a sense humans don’t. Of course, it's equally likely that some dragons can understand humanoid languages even if they can't speak it. 

“All that being said, there is a general outline for each species that would help you get an idea. _If_ I could find it, that is.”

Bucky frowned, glancing at Hottie and raising an eyebrow at him as if it was _his_ fault Bruce didn’t know. “Is that bad? That you can’t find his species?”

“For you, yes. An unknown species makes him even more expensive,” _and infinitely more dangerous for you to be in possession of_ went unsaid, but Bucky heard it all the same. “Luckily, caring for him shouldn’t be more difficult.” He queued a document for the printer and picked up the papers as they fed out. “Dragons have excellent survival instincts; it’s probably why he left his former owner. What I mean by that is, he won’t eat or drink something improperly prepared, so you don’t have to worry about accidentally poisoning him if some of the information on here is incorrect.”

Bucky took the papers from Bruce’s outstretched hand, skimming them for big ‘don’ts’ and ‘do’s’. He'd done this enough times that it was almost comforting to have something normal. 

“It’s not the holy book of caring for a dragon, but it’s the best I can offer. Make sure you read it,” he said, despite knowing Bucky would regardless of whether or not he reminded him.

“Thanks doc.”

“No problem, Bucky. Just try not to get arrested for this.”

Bucky smiled at him crookedly, fingers playing with Hottie’s paws. “No promises.”

* * *

Despite the fact that Hottie would probably get him arrested, he was the best thing to happen to Bucky in years. The initial distrust he’d shown had evaporated almost as soon as Hottie they got back from visiting Bruce, leaving a purring, affectionate creature in its wake. His broken right wing did nothing to slow him down, and more than once Bucky found himself staring in shock at how quickly Hottie could move (though why he was in such a hurry to go from his current location to Bucky’s room and back was a mystery). An evening with the dragon made Bucky realize why they made such great pets; they were more like a companion than a pet that needed to be cared for and trained.

Sam got home late from work, took one look at Bucky, Steve, and Hottie on the couch, and sighed. “Clint or Nat home yet?”

“Nope,” Bucky said.

“Does that mean we’re saving the ‘What-the-fuck-is-a-dragon-doing-here’ talk until they do?”

“Yep.”

Sam looked like he wanted to walk right back out the door.

“In my defense,” Steve piped up, voice weak and scratchy from his cold, “he did this all by himself.”

“Traitor,” Bucky muttered.

Steve shrugged, unrepentant. “It’s true, and this way I still get kissed.”

As if on cue, Sam swooped down and kissed Steve’s head, prompting a smile. “Do you even know how to take care of that thing?”

Hottie hissed at him, mouth opening to show double rows of short, sharp teeth, before going back to nuzzle Bucky’s neck. It seemed like every time he opened his mouth there was something different-- because Bucky could have sworn he’d only had one row of longer teeth the first time they met. “ _He_ is easy to care for. Easier than Stevie, most days.” Hottie let out a loud, pointed trill when Bucky was done talking, making him grin, although Sam just looked bewildered.

“He can understand us, apparently,” Steve said helpfully.

“He _can_?”

All three of them nodded, and Sam gave Hottie a weird look for it. “Dragons are fucking weird.”

“Don’t be rude, Sam,” Bucky said, patting Hottie comfortingly. “It’s okay, Hottie, _I_ like you.”

He purred, raising a paw to pet Bucky’s face.

“I- okay. Whatever.” Sam gave Steve another kiss, then left for their room to change.

* * *

All things considered, Sam, Nat, Clint, and Steve took the news that a once-abused dragon was going to be staying with them for the foreseeable future very well. They objected to Bucky’s name for him, but when Hottie hissed at the suggestion of changing it, there wasn’t any other option but to accept it.

Hottie didn’t eat what Bucky thought he would. Instead of a variety of meats, he seemed to subsist on coffee and whatever Bucky was eating at the time. The only reason he wasn’t panicking that he would die of poisoning or malnutrition was because Bruce had told him that dragons didn’t let themselves do that.

...He still worried. What kind of dragon could eat human foods and be okay? 

One early morning, Bucky walked into the kitchen-- Hottie curled around his neck like a scarf-- to find Clint cursing up a storm at the coffee machine. “Wassat?” Bucky mumbled, rubbing at his eyes.

“Coffee’s not working,” he growled.

Bucky froze. “Seriously?” _No_ it wasn’t whining, this was a problem! Steve was the only one in the household that didn’t drink coffee at all-- his meds couldn’t mix with caffeine and the caffeine itself was bad for his heart-- but Bucky, Hottie, Natasha, and Clint all needed it to survive. If it was broken, they were out of luck. With Nat’s recent injury, they didn’t have the money to spare to buy a new one or get this fixed. It was a miracle it had lasted this long, but, well, Bucky had been hoping it would be a continuous miracle.

Hottie perked up on his shoulder and Bucky tried not to groan. This couldn’t be good.

Except it wasn’t bad in the least.

Hottie pulled on Bucky’s hair a little to get him to the counter then hopped off, making a beeline for the coffee machine.

Clint glanced at him. “I don’t think dragon-magic is going to fix this.”

Hottie gave him a withering look and bat him away. Standing on his hind legs, he was able to see the top of the machine, and with dexterous paws he was able to take it apart in mere minutes. He disappeared to run off to Bucky’s room and came back a moment later with a set of precision tools clutched in his mouth.

Bucky and Clint watched him work, not alive enough to think of stopping him, and too fascinated with what was happening to consider it even if they _had_ been.

Ten minutes later, the thought-dead coffee machine sputtered out a cup. Hottie wrapped his bottom paws around it and leaned his head down to slurp at it, rumbling loudly with happiness at the taste.

Bucky laughed shortly with disbelief and pet him lightly, his nails scraping along Hottie’s scales pleasantly. “Thanks, hot stuff.”

* * *

“Do you have a hoard?” Bucky asked Hottie one day while they were watching Netflix. Hottie froze and looked at him suspiciously. “I’m just curious is all. I thought all dragons had one, but I haven’t seen anything like that around here.” Of course, that might just be a myth; he wasn't really sure. 

Hottie pointedly looked at the screen again, and Bucky held up his hands in surrender. “Dropping it, right.”

Hottie was watching the show, shifting his weight so often it had to mean he was restless. A minute later, he jetted off to Bucky’s room, but he turned around and trilled when he saw that Bucky wasn’t following him.

With a frown, Bucky paused the show and got to his feet. Hottie walked to the bed with exaggerated steps like he was mocking Bucky, and then he tucked under the blanket and scooted between the bottom of the bed and the floor.

Bucky got on his stomach and lifted the edge of the blanket up, looking under. Hottie prowled towards a little pile of metal and sprawled on top of it, looking for Bucky like a king on his throne. “This is your hoard?”

Hottie purred, stretching to rub his back against what he’d gathered.

“What is all this?” Bucky muttered, getting up to move towards the front end of the bed where Hottie had set up his hoard. He got back down and peered at Hottie’s treasure, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. A hammer, a screwdriver, countless loose screws and nails cascading down the pile and settling along the floor where they fell… it looked like the entire contents of their toolkit had been emptied, along with a few other things Hottie had put together. Off to the side, that looked like Steve’s old glasses, and following the line of the wall was- a cane? Was that Sam’s? He didn’t need it anymore, of course, but when they couldn’t find it anywhere, they’d all assumed that they’d lost it. Further down was an old wrist brace velcroed to both a knee and an ankle brace. “Did you… collect tools?”

Hottie purred again, louder this time, and rolled to his feet, pattering over to Bucky and bumping noses with him, then curling up again, his back scales to skin with Bucky’s cheek.

“Huh.” Bucky shifted, then brought a hand up to Hottie and pulled him out from under the bed at the same time that he extracted himself. “What am I going to do with you,” he mused aloud, scratching at Hottie’s throat when he bared it.

* * *

Hottie was locked away-- figuratively-- in the bathroom, taking a luxurious bath in the sink as celebration for getting the cast off. Bucky had helped set him up, but there was only so long he could watch a dragon sleep in the sink before he got bored. He'd suggested the tub at first, but Hottie had laid in the sink and looked all pathetic until Bucky gave in. Before he walked out, he was pretty sure Hottie had snatched the bar of soap and set it on his stomach like a kid would with a rubber ducky. 

"Since when do we watch the news?" Bucky asked. 

Clint shrugged. "I can't find the remote." 

Bucky wondered if Hottie had stolen it away for his hoard. Last time that he'd looked, there wasn't anything that they needed on a daily basis down there, but he didn't know if things were rotated out. It was perfectly possible that Hottie grabbed things at night and then brought them back out the next morning. Of course, this was Clint, so it was more likely that he'd left it in the kitchen and forgotten about it. 

Bucky didn't feel like looking for it, so he sat down next to Clint. He wasn't really paying attention to what was being said. It was more like he was staring at the television screen and zoning out. It was therefore jarring for Hottie to suddenly be there, standing in front of the screen and trilling. "What's up?" Bucky asked. 

Hottie pat the screen with one paw and trilled again. 

"What?" 

He pointed at the name along the bottom. Colonel James Rhodes. It was some update about how Tony Stark was still missing and in another few months they'd have to proclaim him dead so they knew who to give the company to. Pretty macabre, but Bucky figured that's how rich people were. Colonel Rhodes was in the middle of assuring the reporter that the search for Tony-- that's how he said it: 'Tony', not 'Mister Stark'-- was still ongoing and he was hopeful that they'd be able to find him. 

Hottie put his snout against the image of Rhodes's face and made another, desperate noise. 

"Is that your owner?" 

Hottie shook his head. 

"Do you... need to see him?" Bucky guessed. 

He nodded vigorously. 

* * *

Thanks to Hottie's directions-- which was basically a game of Hotter and Colder-- Bucky was able to find Colonel Rhodes. He was about to try and explain what he was doing there when Hottie jumped out of his jacket and latched onto Rhodes, purring loudly. 

Rhodes thanked him for bringing him by, Hottie waved goodbye, and... that was that. 

He was gone. 

Bucky walked back to the apartment, feeling numb. He knew that it was good for Hottie. He was happy for him. But he'd gotten used to the little dragon being around. It had been nice to not always be sleeping alone anymore. The last person he'd shared a bed with was Natasha because being alone had made her panic, but then she'd liked having her own space. Before that had been Steve, but then him and Sam started dating. Sam was pretty cool, but he didn't get the appeal of it-- besides, they couldn't fit all three of them in one bed even if they wanted to. 

He wasn't alone. He knew that, even if the houseful of people hadn't clued him in. It just felt a little lonely. Having Hottie around had been a nice change. 

* * *

Someone knocked on the door. None of them moved. They weren't expecting anyone, so chances were, whoever it was would move on in a second. 

They knocked again. Damn it. Ignoring it now would just be rude. More importantly, they weren't going to go away. Everyone who lived in this house was rude from time to time, but none of them wanted to sit there in silence as the person at the door got more and more upset at being ignored. 

"Someone should answer that," Sam said. Clearly, Sam had exempt himself from that since Steve was sitting on top of him. 

"Clint, you're closest," Bucky said. 

"You're the one that most looks like a productive member of society," Clint said. " _You_ should do it." 

"I'll do it if you give me a foot rub later," Natasha said. 

Clint nodded. "Deal." He got up and walked over to the door. "Uh. Hey, aren't you Tony Stark?" 

"That's what they tell me," came an amused voice. They all craned their heads to look, and sure enough, one of the richest people in the world was standing on their doorstep. 

"Why are you here?" 

"I came to talk to Bucky. Is he here?" 

All heads swiveled to look at Bucky, but it's not like Bucky knew why the hell Tony Stark would want to talk to him. He didn't even know how Stark knew his name. Even Clint turned to look, so it was like a glowing beacon to let Stark know that yes, Bucky was here. "How the hell do you know Tony Stark?" Natasha asked. 

"Fuck off," was all Bucky said, getting to his feet. He pulled Clint back into the apartment then stepped out in the hallway, closing the door behind him. 

"Sorry for showing up like that, but I figured it was the easiest way," Stark said with an easy smile. 

Bucky was pretty sure the maintenance of that smile was valued higher than the entirety of Bucky's life. "Easiest way to what?" 

"Thank you." 

Bucky blinked. "Um. Okay. You're welcome, I guess?" 

His smile widened in amusement because it was obvious that Bucky had no idea what this was about. "You know that dragon you found?" 

"Oh, you're his owner?" 

"I _am_ him." There was a pause where Stark let that sink in. It wasn't a very long pause. Not near long enough for Bucky to really wrap his head around it. "I was pretty disoriented when you first found me, and even after I got better, I couldn't shift back. This witch cursed me, it was a whole thing," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "You saw Rhodey on the tv and I had you bring me to him because he's always been better an interpreting me. Although he did take pictures of me the size of a housecat so he can mock me for it later, but eh. Anyways, I wanted to thank you. Maybe dinner?" 

Bucky blinked again. "Um. I don't think I have clothes that would get me through the front door of the places you normally eat." 

"That sounds like an invitation to buy you a suit. I'm all for that. I bet you clean up nice," Tony said, smirking like he could envision it and was _very_ pleased with what he saw. Was Tony flirting with him? Was that what this was? The last time someone had flirted with Bucky-- not counting customers-- was when he was at Clint's birthday party two years ago. 

Bucky didn't exactly feel attractive right now. So why the hell was one of the most eligible men in the country hitting on him? "I'm not really sure taking care of you when you were a dragon makes me clean up nice." Bucky hadn't 'cleaned up' in years; he hadn't had a reason to. 

"Of course not, that's a completely separate skill that you have. That reminds me," Tony said, reaching into his pocket and pulling something out, "this is yours." He handed it to Bucky. 

Bucky took it automatically, then looked down at it blankly. "This is money." A shit ton of money. It was a wad of bills, and they weren't exactly ones. 

"Yes, as a thank you for taking care of me," Tony said, hands in his pockets again, only this time they stayed there. "And to pay for some of the bullshit you had to go through. I already went and paid Bruce, so you don't need to worry about that." 

"I can't take this," Bucky said, holding it out to Tony. 

"You totally can, and you will or I'll go and give it to Clint. It doesn't mean anything to me, but it could help you guys a lot." 

Bucky looked at him blankly. Tony knew him; he knew Clint. Tony _was_ Hottie. This wasn't some stranger trying to pay him for a good deed, this was Hottie himself coming up and taking care of it. "Do you drink as much coffee as a human as you do as a dragon?" 

"I'm _always_ a dragon, but yes," Tony said with a grin. "You want a cup? I'll buy." 

"Uh." Bucky glanced down at himself, thinking once again that he wasn't dressed for this. He nodded towards the door. "Come on in. I'll get changed." 


End file.
